


Reaching for Something New

by dragonswithjetpacks



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Beatrice Cousland, F/M, Fluff, Sweet Alistair, mooshy stuff, unintentional snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 04:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11222940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonswithjetpacks/pseuds/dragonswithjetpacks
Summary: Most nights are filled with vivid nightmares for Beatrice and Alistair. But this particular night, Beatrice plots against those terrors. She has a plan to not only allow her ease from her newly found foes, but to also allow a decent night's rest. Is her plan for her own selfish reasons? Or does she have another more subtle motive?





	Reaching for Something New

It was never the time at the taverns that Beatrice enjoyed most. It was the trips in between destinations that she honestly loved. She would spend all day walking underneath the humid spring sun, the cloud that passed over giving her a brief moment in relief under their shade. Fereldan was famous for it's humidity and it's stench, both of which she was suffering from. She had been traveling all day along the dirt road, brushing her hand alongside fences, trees, and knee-high grass that hid the path before her. But she always lead the group. And from time to time, she would glance over her shoulder to Alistair, always just a few feet behind her, ready to give her an encouraging smile each time she met his gaze. Just behind him was Leliana, always eager to start conversations with anyone who was willing to have one. And beyond her was Morrigan who wrinkled her nose in disgust and swore under her breath from time to time. And of course Sten who did and said very little at all but could often be seen admiring his views. After making sure her companions were well, Beatrice would look down to her shadow. Fang always looked up at her, a smile that went on for miles and a tail that wagged for days. She couldn't help but smile back at him before continuing down the path.

Their days were filled with light singing, quiet conversations, and various grunts and mumbles. Beatrice remained quiet a majority of the time, simply listening to her comrades speak to one another. She laughed, smiled, and sang along with them well enough. But she preferred to be aware. And when she was still, Alistair would approach her with a concerned look on his face. It was a surprise to her, really, that he could be so focused. And so concerned. Then again, the more she battled beside him, the more she respected him. As distracted and childish as he seemed, he was incredibly prepared for combat. There were even times outside of bloodshed that he surprised her, offering advice and strategic plans openly with her. That was, at least, when Morrigan was not around.  
But again, it was not the days that Beatrice enjoyed the most. It was the nights. Given, there were nights spent in a tavern tucked away in a warm bed. However, the next best thing was a quick rest in the middle of the night. A few would sleep for a few hours while the others remained awake. It was one of those nights Beatrice remained awake, perched on her cot reading a book she found during their travels. Her eyes were growing heavy, but she refused to fall asleep. Across the fire, Alistair watched. Leliana was not far away either, and she smiled when she saw her friend fading away.

"You should get some sleep," he said from across the fire.

She peered at him from her book. "I will fall asleep when I am ready to."

"You seem quite ready to me."

Her eyes shot over the brim. "Even if I fall asleep, it will be nothing but tossing and turning for the entire night."

"It will eventually get easier," he reassured her.

"I'm sure it will," she re-situated herself on her cot in an attempt to dive back into her brief escape from reality.

"It's my turn for the first watch of the night," he said. "If you toss and turn too much, I can always wake you."

"I'll take my chances with falling asleep with my book at hand, thank you," she replied.

Alistair shifted as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. They had picked a rather open field to camp in. And between Sten, Fang, and himself, there was not a chance anything would be able to creep upon them. He was rather relaxed, which was both a good thing and a bad. He fell back onto his elbows and watched Beatrice turn yet another page.

"The nightmares bother you, don't they?" he asked after Leliana retreated to her tent.

Beatrice did not look up from examining her text. "I can't imagine a Grey Warden who was not trouble by their nightly visions."

"The Archdemon is... well, it is loud. I promise the dreams are not normally as violent."

She closed her book and leaned forward. "So tell me... what do the dreams consist of?"

"Well," he sat up. "There is a bit of chattering. And some odd visions. But they are easy to tune out. It's a lot like trying to fall asleep around a loud noisy group."

"Really?" she smiled.

"Oh, sure. This is the worst of it. I promise."

A sense of relief came over her as she felt her mind fall to ease. In all honesty, if every night were similar to the past few nights, she would surely drive herself crazy. Part of her began to wonder why she had even agreed to follow Duncan at all. But as she sat across the fire from Alistair, looking at him with a stupid smile on her face, she realized that with the aid of others, she would make it just fine.

"Alistair," she said after a moment's silence.

He looked up. "Hmm?" he hummed to her happily.

"When you had strange dreams... what did you do?"

"You mean when I first panicked about the nightmares? I spoke to the other Wardens. They made me feel like it was normal and I learned to cope with it. You seem to be taking it very well, by the way. I must say what you are going through is far worse than anything I've ever endured."

"I should be thankful, then. If you weren't here, I'm sure I would have lost my sanity."

He chuckled to himself. "I'm sure you would have found a way even without me."

"Are you that confident in me?"

"You've made it this far," he shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be?"

She felt a sudden loneliness sitting so far away from him. It wasn't just the lack of comfort, but the thought that she had not grown close with anyone in camp. All except Alistair, of course. She longed to be close to someone again. To feel the touch of someone else. Blaming her inner thoughts and her longing urges, she spoke up.

"This might be strange for me to ask but..." she hesitated. "Do you mind if... could you... Would you please sit next to me? Just until I fall asleep."

His mouth fell open and the noises that came out were nothing close to a response. "Sit... why? Could you...?" he managed to make words coherent.

She smiled. "If it makes you feel uncomfortable, you don't have to."

"No!" he jumped up. "Not at all."

"I just don't seem to be able to sleep very well by myself anymore..."

His embarrassment was difficult to hide as his face had already flushed red. Luckily, there was no one else awake or close enough to see it. Though, the strange shuffle he made was good enough for anyone to see his timidness. Beatrice watched mischievously, her book waiting patiently in her hands as he move his things closer to her cot. He had not set up his tent, at any rate, and has been comfortable with taking a bed wherever one was available.

"Here?" he asked, setting his pack next to her tent.

"If you don't mind."

"Sure," he nodded, pretending it did not bother him.

He crouched next to her, reaching back as he realized his pack was a little too far. He pulled it closer to him, fluffing it for a backrest before he leaned against it. It was not much, but it would have to do. Beatrice just a foot away, still smugly smiling upon him as she witnessed his discomfort. Alistair knew she was doing it on purpose. And he knew she was entertained by it. He also knew that when she lifted her book to read, she diligently touched him with her elbow. He did not move it at first. But when he did, he swore he saw the corner of her mouth twitch with the slightest smirk.

"What are you reading?" he eventually asked in order to calm his tension.

"A log book of the first Lothering farmers."

"How did-" he turned to look at her. "Did you steal that from the Lothering chantry?"

"Here we go," she sighed, closing the book.

"You can't just take things like-"

"And who else would take it? A darkspawn who raided the village? Or maybe the chantry survived the carnage and the fire and maybe some thief found it. If we're lucky, someone with a right mind and appreciation for the land might have made a point to go to the chantry library to pick up all the books that were important just before they left with the rest of their personal belongings before they fled the horrific horde that-"

"I get... your point," Alistair heaved.

"I'm reading them because I have nothing else to read," she explained. "My intent was to give these records to someone who could use them within the Bannorn. Lothering will not be lost or forgotten."

It had occurred that to him, Lothering was simply a pit stop. But to Beatrice, it was more. It was someone's home. And someday, it would be a home to others once again. They had spent one day in the small village and within that time, they had managed to help many of the people. It was time time ago, but at that time, he felt it was more important to press on. He had not been agitated with Beatrice's decision to remain in Lothering for a short time. But he did admit he had urged that they press forward. And still, she continued to lend her aid despite the fact that Lothering had weeks ago.

"We'll arrive at Redcliffe within the next day or so," he said, settling back next to her cot. "You should be able to pass on the records there."

"Good," she nestled back down. "Because I have a few."

"What do you mean a few?"

" _Southern Spiders and How to Catch Them_ which is just as it sounds. And then I also have _Poisons for the Pesky_ in regards to spider poisons and their affects on pests around gardens and farms. There's a small bundle of scrolls for the history on Lothering. And, a strange pamphlet on _The Chanter and You_ , a basic guide to understanding Chanters of the Light."

"What?"

"I actually took that last one for my own amusement. I'm not going to lie."

"No... I mean... you know, it really doesn't matter."

Beatrice's infamous smirk spread across her face. "It really doesn't."

For a time, her eyes were awake enough to read for a bit after their engaging conversation. However, no one truly knew the last time Beatrice had actually gotten a decent rest. Most of the time, she was entirely alone. And this was the first time she had even hinted at the possibility of sleep. Alistair dare not move in case he were to ruin the chances. In due time, just as they had witnessed earlier in the night, she began to nod away. Within seconds, her book fell from her hands. Her breathing was deeper. Her eyes completely closed. And her head, which should have fallen backward, fell in his lap instead. He suddenly became stiff, though he knew he had no reason to. He knew her well enough by now. And she had trusted him enough to ask him to her side.

"If you move her and she wakes up, I'll turn your breakfast into mold for an entire week," Morrigan threatened when she saw Beatrice sleeping beside him.

"It was never even a thought," he whispered as loudly as he could with every intent not to wake her.

"Good," she looked at Beatrice. "She trusts you."

"Does she really?" he mirrored her gaze, looking down at a fastly sleeping young woman.

"It appears so. Though, I often wonder why."

He wanted to glare up at her, but it did not matter. Instead, he took the book from Beatrice's open hand, closing it and placing it as close to her tent opening as possible without moving the lower half of his body. Alistair was so intent on allowing Beatrice the comfort of sleep that in is stillness, he, himself, had fallen asleep. This left Morrigan to watch the night by herself, which did not trouble her at all. And when Leliana woke early that morning to relieve them, she found Alistair had sunk to the ground, his head on his pack and his feet next to the fire with Beatrice resting at his lower abdomen. His arm was curled around her back casually. And they were both snoring loudly. Even when the entire camp had risen, no one disturbed them until they woke on their own. Though Beatrice was first to rise, Alistair came close in second as he felt the absence of her warmth.

They heard nothing but jokes from their companions for the entirety of the trip.

* * *

 The spring was cold, which was a good sign of fresh underground water. His sleeves were rolled up and he scrubbed his linens the best he could. He never had been good at it, ever since he was child. Judging by the way Beatrice was violently rubbing her clothes, he guessed she was just as good as he was. The only difference was the Beatrice had never washed clothes in her life. He had not had a full conversation with her since the morning they woke next to each other. Since then, they had rotated shifts evenly. And he knew not whether she had slept a full night.

"You know... about the other night," Alistair blurted.

"I'm going to stop you," she interrupted.

"I expected you would... because you always do..."

She could not help but let a small giggle slip, her hands dipping into the water. "I was thinking about it, too. And I just... wasn't sure of how to word everything correctly. I still don't."

"So what makes you think you can do this better than I can?"

Her look of doubt was enough to convince him.

"Fair enough," he shrugged. "But hear me out."

"Alistair," she said in a low tone that pulled at him.

"We both have been through a lot," he pressed on. "Our beds are not our own. And I know enough about jumping from bed to bed to understand the difference. These places are unfamiliar. And although these people have been wonderfully to us, we don't know them."

She stopped scrubbing to look at him attentively.

"We are the only things we know right now. You and I."

"I was just going to say," she spoke softly, "that I haven't slept as good since I had that night."

"Oh..." he sounded surprised, his hands falling loosely into the water.

"But I also think you're right," she added.

Alistair's head filled with things to say but he still remained speechless. This was not a situation he could have prepared for. Beatrice was not some fair maiden playing games with him. She was a fellow Grey Warden. An incredible fighter. An intelligent woman. And beautiful one... not that this affect the way he thought about her. At least, that is what he told himself... over and over again... as he watched her rinse her clothes in the spring. She lifted a pair, wringing out the excess water and flinging them straight. But when he caught sight at the slightest hint of lace, his face burned at the cheeks with red and he turned away before he was teased yet again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Edited for grammatical errors I made because I was pretty toasty when I posted this. Sorry guys. I'm better than this.


End file.
